


Debasement

by spiderine



Category: Fight Club (1999)
Genre: M/M, is non-con even possible with this pairing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-25
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:02:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderine/pseuds/spiderine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turning and turning in the widening gyre<br/>The falcon cannot hear the falconer;<br/>Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;<br/>Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,<br/>The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere<br/>The ceremony of innocence is drowned;<br/>The best lack all conviction, while the worst<br/>Are full of passionate intensity.</p>
<p>Surely some revelation is at hand...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debasement

**Author's Note:**

> _Fight Club_ , both the movie and the novel, is a great influence on my life and philosophy. 
> 
> This fic is really, really old. I wrote it after the film _Fight Club_ came out in 1999. I just thought it's about time I archived it here. It is posted as is, with no further editing.
> 
> Slide.

They say you always hurt the one you love. Well, it works both ways.

Nobody loved me like Tyler Durden.

At the Paper Street house, we had no neighbors for a half a mile in any direction. We used to hit golf balls into the windows of the abandoned factories, we used to get drunk on that shitty vodka we used for the soap and howl like apes into the dark. Once we set a bunch of garbage on fire and nearly burned the house down. We rolled on the mud in the yard, laughing so hard we puked. Lucky it was raining.

Tyler was always talking shit - splicing cum shots into Disney movies and talking shit about social subversion, whacking golf balls at useless ruins while talking shit about economic upheaval. I was sick and tired of hearing him always talking shit and the times when he was making the most sense were when I got most pissed off.

I swung my five iron like a baseball bat and clocked him a good one in the side of the head. Blood sprayed out of his mouth as his head slammed to the side and he staggered back a step, then went for me low and we hit the dirt. He got me one in the eye and one in the gut and I felt the sickening thud of my head bouncing on a chunk of brick and I heard myself screaming "Fuck you! I don't give a fuck! I don't give a fuck!" I was screaming myself hoarse and I didn't care, I scrambled in the mud and landed a boot in Tyler's kidney and he grunted and we rolled and I was on my feet and kicked him again in the stomach.

I reeled backwards and caught my balance, trying to see through my bloody swelling eye and the mud caked on my face, trying to catch my breath, but I couldn't catch my breath because I couldn't make myself stop screaming - "I don't care! I don't care!" I stared at Tyler on the ground and screamed at him - "I don't care! I don't care!" - hardly seeing him at first, and then snapping into focus and seeing him lying bloody filthy on the dead grass and the dirt, one hand reaching out, fingers up, gently curling. He smiled at me, then got snagged in a hideous hacking coughing fit, rolled up onto his hands and knees and retched and hacked blood and mucus onto the ground.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his grimy hand and his hand on the ass of his mud-caked jeans, and he looked up at me and spat and grinned and croaked, "You have no idea how beautiful you are right now."

I looked down at my hands, grimed and stinking, one of the nails was ripped half off and turning black. My clothes were dirty rags, I was striped with filth and I could feel a scab forming of mud and grass caked with blood sticking my hair oozily to the side of my scalp. I could barely stand. I looked like the walking dead. "I don't care," I whispered.

"You're hitting bottom," he said, struggling to his feet with a fond, woozy smile. "You've almost lost it all." Then he socked me with a roundhouse right to my black eye and I spun like a movie cowboy and hit the dirt - a distinct, faraway *clack* in my head and a sharp new pain as a tooth broke. I spit it out, face down in the dirt. "I don't care about hitting bottom," I whined. "I don't want enlightenment. I'm tired of enlightenment." I didn't think I'd said anything loud enough to be heard, but Tyler did hear. "I know," he said gently. "We're almost there."

Face down in the dirt, I heard him walk over me and stand to straddle me. I heard him unbuckle his pants and open his fly. I didn't care. I heard him give a little grunt and a sigh and a warm wet stream of stink hit my ass and my back and the back of my head, stinging a bit in the cuts, dripping down my face. "I don't fucking care," I whispered, and licked it off my lips. I think it might have got in my eyes too, or I might have been crying. Or bleeding or something.

Tyler sat on the back of my thighs and grabbed my hair, arching me up backwards - it hurt so much my teeth started aching again. Through my one good eye I could just see him, and he looked at me with such compassion that I lost it and broke down, blubbering and snorting wetly, bubbling blood and snot. He leaned close to me and closed his cracked swollen lips on mine and kissed me deep and wet, his tongue stroking my broken teeth and bitten tongue, drinking my blood. I wept shamelessly, shuddering. My eyes were killing me with the pain of crying. I let him kiss me until I couldn't breathe.

With a soggy snort he pulled away, letting my face bounce back into the dirt. We both gasped and gagged to breathe through our mangled faces, then at the same time turned away and hacked, clearing blood from our throats. I twisted back slowly - he was still straddling me and his fly was still open and his dick was still hanging out of it and he was grinning a demon's grin, blood and snot and piss and dirt smeared around his mouth. I had to smile too, hough the effort cracked my lips and brought a fresh ache to my jaw.

His dick twitched and my eyes snapped open which hurt like hell but the new flash of pain and adrenaline and newly unfamiliar _fear_ made me launch away from him, scrabbling on my belly on the ground, but I couldn't move. He was still on me and he grabbed the back of my neck and the grin was gone now, he snarled and shoved my face in the dirt. "I thought you didn't care," he panted hoarsely.

"I don't fucking care!" I roared into the dirt, biting and bucking in renewed rage. "I don't fucking care!" I struggled but couldn't get leverage to stand, and howled and thrashed impotently.

On Paper Street, no one can hear you scream.

I felt Tyler's weight back off me slightly and I started to scramble to my knees when he grabbed the waistband of my ruined chinos with both hands and tore the whole fucking thing open down the back from waist to crotch. It caught my balls like the wedgie of my worst grade school nightmares and I yelled and saw stars but still was dimly able to regret that I'd given up underwear weeks ago as too much trouble to wash.

Tyler's weight hit my back again and knocked the breath out of me. My hands clawed at the dirt. I felt him rubbing his hardening dick against my ass, grinding dirt into the crack. "Say it again," he grunted. "Say it again."

"I don't fucking care!" I screamed and then screamed again as something horrid and huge bluntly shoved its way up inside me - screamed and screamed myself dry and hoarse, mouth wide open like I was speared all the way up my guts into my throat with burning, gritty pain. I screamed until my breath gave out and as I took a breath to scream again the weight on me shifted back and then slammed into me again. It knocked the breath out of me and as my lungs collapsed my muscles spasmed and relaxed and with a nasty grunt Tyler forced himself fully inside me and lay over me, pinning me down, panting. "You're beautiful," he breathed, and kissed my ear.

I shrieked like an animal and writhed against the thing skewering my insides. Tyler moaned quietly and rocked against me slightly, still panting. "It doesn't matter," he whispered, lying still.

My voice cracked and gave out, my screaming reduced to a hoarse roaring whisper. I wanted more than anything to struggle out from under him, but every time I moved I could _feel_ him -- it seemed that the less I struggled the less I felt of that searing pain and if I could just block it out, block out the horror, make it so it just didn't matter...

"It doesn't matter," I whispered, lying still.

He gave the barest of nods, I felt the brush of his hair against the side of my head. "Nothing matters," he breathed, and then rocked forward the tiniest bit. It ... *did* something to me inside that made me moan and made my head swim. I whimpered and wiggled my ass, just the tiniest bit, and he shifted inside me somehow that made me grunt as my muscles relaxed further and ... things ... became less ... uncomfortable. I panted shallowly.

Tyler never moved. "Breathe," he whispered. "Just breathe. Nothing else matters." He rocked forward slightly and I whimpered again. He rocked, I whimpered. He rocked harder, and I moaned, my moans shaping into, "no, no, no..."

"Don't care," he groaned and reared back before plunging forward deeply, grinding his hips against my ass. I yowled and moved against him, the pain was real and it was stirring something inside me that wanted the pain, wanted more pain and wanted it deeper. "I don't fucking care, I don't fucking care!" I cried, and pushed my ass back at him until we both grunted sharply.

"Yeah, give it up, give it all up," he moaned against my ear, almost singing it, "give it all away" and it just snapped something in me and I lifted my ass to him, shivering and weeping.

There was nothing left to give. I gave it all to Tyler Durden. He lifted me gently to my hands and knees and I hung in space, impaled on his body, as he plunged deep into me and slammed against my body and wrung me to my core. The ground before my eyes was infinite space starred with my tears, pooled with my blood, and in my ear Tyler moaned and sang, "flesh and meat, blood and bone... monkeys howling in the dirt, it doesn't matter..."

My mind reeled and my body was hollow with longing. "We are the dead," I whispered.

"Yes... yes," Tyler panted softly. I felt his lips planting tender kisses against the pulse of my neck. I shuddered and whined against the warmth of his breath. He removed one hand from where it was fisted into my hip and slid it around to cup my balls softly. And weeping, I gave it all to him - I let him feel my limp cock stir at the brush of his rough fingers, let him grasp me warmly and stroke me stiff...

What's one monkey to another if not the comfort of meat to meat... when nothing is real except the truth of blood and bone and flesh...

My life pounded in my ears and Tyler pounded in my bowels, roughly pistoning, I could feel the grit inside me and some sticky slickness that must have been blood, his or mine, it didn't matter. And suddenly the truth came to me in a clear white light and there was no difference between us, just meat and blood and bone and longing and I saw myself plain as day on my hands and knees, filthy and tattered on the cold bare ground, just a monkey alone and howling in the dirt, splattering strings of cum into the muddy, bloody ground.

Panting and heaving, I toppled over on my side and heard Tyler grunt and shudder as he fell with me, still cumming, giving it all away. My insides screamed as he pulled out, and then there came a warm dribble out my tortured hole. I was all jizz slick and blood sticky and shit stink, debased and empty and sick, and soothed by it all, by the emptiness and debasement. Nothing left to give, no farther down left to go. I had hit debasement.

I am Jack's bleeding rectum.

Laughing weakly, I rolled over onto my back and into Tyler, who grabbed me under the arms and dragged me up so my head rested on his chest. The starry sky above us was sickly pale, overflooded by the city lights. How did light ever become pollution, I wondered. I ached for the day when the lights went out forever.

"Is this what you mean by hitting bottom?" I wondered.

Tyler laughed and smacked me in the side of my head, making me see stars and reminding me that I probably had a concussion. He called me a sick motherfucker and dragged me to my feet. I stepped out of my ruined trousers and pulled what was left of my shirt over my head.

Tyler smiled like an angel and said, "You are beautiful" and stripped down too. Arm in arm, we stumbled to the gate, both of us naked, slimed with dirt and blood, cum and shit.

At the gate, a used-car salesman with a bandaged nose waited to drive us to Fight Club in a late-model sedan. I looked into his eyes, eyes that showed fear like a hamster racing in a wheel, and caressed his cheek. "You have no idea how beautiful you are," I breathed, and kissed him deeply, smearing him with slime and blood.


End file.
